


Devotion and Desire

by korewa



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Worship, F/F, Glove Kink, Hands, Masturbation, Minor Character(s), Oral Fixation, Pining, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), it's called "I want Edelgard to stick her gloved fingers in my mouth" and it's art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 10:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20813351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korewa/pseuds/korewa
Summary: I know the spark inside your eyes /Was just a match I used to set myself on fire





	Devotion and Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Byleth touches herself while thinking about Edelgard but it involves most of my kinks. That's it that's the whole fic.

“Oh, Professor, perfect timing!” 

It’s evening, and Byleth is almost back to her room when the approach of skittering footsteps and a haggard voice breaks her out of her reverie.

“I was cleaning just now and this was on the floor! It was in your classroom, one of your students’? Talk about messy…”

She can hardly turn to look before the archbishop’s assistant is beside her and shoving something small and soft into her hands. “I`d return it myself but I’m in a hurry; I gotta get goin’ on the firewood.”―he’s fast (does Cyril ever stop moving?), continuing past her before she can begin to speakー“And I’m not really supposed to go up to the second floor of the dormitory anyway, y’know? Anyway, see ya!” 

And as he passes, so does any chance for a response. 

Confusion holds her captive for a moment outside her door, but she shrugs it off and moves inside. After closing the wooden door behind her and hearing the crisp click of the lock she breathes a sigh of relief, and her eyes move to examine the thing in her hand. It’s two white gloves of fine fabric (_ silk? _ ), with a pattern of delicate stitching at the cuffs. _ It’s pretty. _ But who would drop it? Ferdinand and Hubert always wear gloves, but…

She turns it over between her fingers. They’re too small. Must be Edelgard’s—_ It’s not like her to forget things, _ she thinks, her lips pulling up in a tiny smile at the image. Byleth’s first _ real _ thought, of course, is of returning the item, but it’s far too late—she’s already retired for the day. She’ll see everyone tomorrow, anyway. 

She goes to put it down on the table―intending to retire for the night―but something stops her. She pauses mid-motion, examining the artifact idly. Her thoughts drift back to Edelgard as she turns it over between her fingers, and an anxious feeling she can’t quite place wells up inside her at the thought of her ivory-haired student.

In the several months since she arrived at the monastery, she’s had the pleasure of getting to know the Black Eagles students—across dining hall tables, over countless cups of tea and noisy battlefields—and has become close to many. But despite all the time the two of them have spent together, Edelgard still seems so far away. 

There is a dissonance between what she hears and what she sees―between the sound

of the heiress’ voice, the polished edges of her words reflecting Byleth’s questions and keeping her at bay, 

And the look

In her eyes, when-

“_ Edelgard… _”

A sigh escapes her lips as she plops down on her bed. She feels her face heat up and images of a black uniform and red tights flash through her mind as she tries to catch that spark, flipping through the pages of her recollection to land once again on the things that draw her so forcefully to her house leader. 

What’s not to like? It’s the way Edelgard carries herself. It’s her voice. It’s her mouth: the shape of it, the way it curves down when she concentrates, the way she bites her lip, chews slightly at her thumb when- 

_ Ugh. _Byleth huffs and Looks down at the gloves on her lap. She can't help it. It’s Edelgard’s hands. The way they move purposefully, elegantly, no matter what they’re doing. They’re conspicuous: the pallor of her gloves drawn taught against the blackness of her uniform and the hilt of her axe is striking, and Byleth wonders how it would feel on her skin—sliding up her arm, whispering against the edges of her clothing. 

_ She wishes Edelgard would touch her. _

Touch. She looks down at the thing in her hand, and a traitorous urge bubbles wordlessly to the surface. It’s a shameful thing implicit with admissions that she doesn’t have time to untangle. She shouldn’t, but in a quivering instant she’s sliding the pieces of clothing down over her fingers and revelling in the foreign feelings of the contact as she laces her own fingers together and releases them.

She presses a tentative touch to the inside of her wrist, running the tips of her fingers over the soft skin. There’s a pinprick of embarrassment that gives way to quiet thrill as it’s Edelgard’s veiled hand sliding up her arm, along her clavicle, ghosting up her neck and dragging a scorching trail across her jaw before threatening at her mouth. A thumb brushes over her lips and she kisses it, reaching up to gently grab the hand and hold the touch against her, pressing a long kiss to the palm. Even here, in the heavy stillness of her room, she hears Edelgard almost sigh, and satisfaction washes through her as the hand in hers softens into her touch and caresses over her face. 

_ She shouldn’t be doing this. _

But it’s not like she’s never thought about Edelgard like this before—never stolen snippets of their conversations home to replay in the dark at night, never wondered what it would be like to kiss her, what it would feel like to have those gloved hands gripping at the back of her neck and that tongue pressing into her mouth (hot, insistent)—

“_ Mn… _”

At the tail end of that thought comes a flash of warmth, a rebellious cinder that catches pale fire at the base of her spine and slinks through her, arousal flickering quietly in the pit of her stomach. A small sounds slips out of her mouth as she parts her lips and presses her tongue against the softness of the fabric in front of her. She feels silk melt against wet heat, and her breath comes out in steamy puffs against her hand as the taste, the feeling of strong, silky hands floods her senses. It’s new, it’s embarrassing; it’s unmistakably erotic.

She thinks about the heiress cupping her cheeks lovingly and she feels her chin held firmly in place and lavender eyes burning into her own—sees herself opening her mouth and taking gloved fingers between her lips, wet and soft. She moves her tongue in slow, purposeful circles over the probing tips, and her body alights in response. Her affection is languid and submissive; she takes her time to explore each possibility of touch, each sensation. It’s so intimate, being fondled like this, from the inside. 

The reaction is immediate when fingers intrude further and edge dangerously near her throat, a warning shot through her. The precarious weight of the hand against her mouth—the way it floods her senses, makes makes her breath heavy and tingling with adrenaline—it’s overwhelming. An electric feeling, something similar to, but so much sweeter than, fear. 

She feels vulnerable beneath the princess’ gaze, beneath her hands. She wants to breathe Edelgard, feel her, be overwhelmed by her.

She takes a gasping breath against her hand, and as saliva pools beneath her tongue as she sucks on her index finger she imagines that the sleeve of the heiress’ uniform is there for her to cling to—that the sweet pressure building between her legs from Edelgard’s thigh pressing decisively against her core.

A soft thumb brushes over her bottom teeth as she remembers the night of the ball, when Edelgard had been so close, and the moonlight had played those tricks on her.

“Heh, I wasn’t even able to make you blush.”

Blatant flirting. _ A dream. _ She had wanted to kiss her so badly then. But the timing wasn’t right (it was never right). The lilt in Edelgard’s voice and the coy look in her eyes had been a searing feeling deep in her chest—“I cannot keep you all to myself, after all.” _ I wish you would. _

“_ Shit.” _

Her breath catches in her throat as she seizes onto that moment: Edelgard would look at her just like that, gaze cocky and oh-so-commanding as Byleth lay open before her. The heat pooling between her legs begins to burn as she bites down pleadingly on the flesh against her teeth. 

Edelgard would sigh,yielding and drawing Byleth in for a fervid kiss. The inside of her mouth is like quicksand, and she pulls Byleth to her so fiercely that she feels like she’s melting into her. 

“I want you.” she would breathe into Byleth’s ear, one hand pulling at her hip and one on her face, index and middle fingers pressed imploringly against her lips.

A question. 

Byleth sees herself running her tongue reverently along the tips, takes the silk between her teeth and pulls- acquiescence. The surface of her bed is cool and she’s pliant against Edelgard’s hands as she lets herself be guided down onto the white sheets. 

She thinks about every passing touch she’s ever shared with the princess as she quietly slides her own hand down her body, and as she concentrates it’s not the cold skin of her own hand, but of Edelgard’s, that carves over her breast and across her stomach, blazing a sure trail to the waistband of her shorts.

But she’s done with waiting. She trembles at the shock of the first cool digit gliding beneath her panties and making contact with the sensitive skin there. 

She moans aloud, shoving her hand impatiently down her underwear to meet molten desire. Wet arousal coats her fingers as she spreads her folds, and the contact warms her entire body. _Relief: white hot, melting. _

Fingers graze lightly, too lightly, over her clit, and each movement, each dip across her entrance feels like a burning. Edelgard—Edelgard would be so attentive in this critical moment, gentle in her way even as she laid claim to Byleth’s most sensitive place. White hair and hot lips would brush against her cheek and Edelgard would ask “Is this okay?” in that voice like red velvet.

_ “Yes…” _ Byleth whimpers as she slides two fingers into herself. She’s wanted this for so long, dreamt of this touch, of Edelgard trespassing upon all of her boundaries. She presses her fingers in as hard as she can and writhes against the sheets as they begin to move inside her, all thoughts of her present vanishing and suddenly it’s just cold fingers, hot need, and thoughts of the girl she loves. 

She collapses back against the bed and closes her eyes,trying to focus on the feeling of fingers inside her and this faraway version of Edelgard. 

She plunges deeper into her fantasy, her thoughts flit from one image to the next, and the digits inside her quicken in tandem. Would Edelgard be gentle? Would she be bold, confident? Would she make Byleth feel things unlike any she’s felt before?

_ Yes. _ she’d find that sweet little spot deep inside her that makes her forget how to breathe.

Byleth’s whole body is on fire. Her back arches off the bed and she looks up at her lover, her mouth falling open to plead Edelgard’s name as the rhythm of her thrusts brings her steadily higher. It’s too much: the sounds, the friction—between Edelgard’s hand and her walls, between her and her desires—it’s- 

_ Too much. _

“Edelgard…”

She brings her free hand to her lips and bites desperately into the softness of the glove, her noises muffled by the still-wet fabric. She sees it, it’s close now. She takes a stifled breath against the synecdoche and feels herself slipping over the edge as her lover’s name is coaxed from her lips again and again with her orgasm.

“E-edelgard, I’m-”

A heightened electricity seizes her body for one tight, unbearable instant, and then she’s there—eyes closed and all of her awash with pure elation. 

There’s a moment of stillness before she’s coming down. She opens her eyes and takes a deep breath in. Sensation lingers under her skin and she moves, feeling sweat form and the hand inside her, suddenly apparent and uncomfortable. 

It leaves her. And suddenly she’s back in her room, alone.

Staring at the ceiling, the dark knobs of the wood above her head boring down on her, like questioning eyes.

She feels little relief, she hardly ever does. But she feels tired, and with a mumbled curse and a heavy motion she flings the soiled gloves to the floor, sinks her face against her pillow, and lets the warm current of the afterglow carry her off to sleep

* * *

(A few days later) 

How did you know this was mine? Thank you, my teacher."

Edelgard is positively glowing as she takes the pieces of clothing from Byleth’s outstretched hand. Byleth doesn’t miss the tiny little spark as the other girl’s fingers brush ever-so-slightly against her own. 

“You didn’t have to wash them! How thoughtful.”

“...Don’t mention it.” 

She wills her expression to be unreadable. She hopes it is. 

“Professor, are you feeling alright? You’re a little red.”

“I’m fine.” 

Byleth can feel Edelgard’s eyes on her, and the slightest hint of a smile dancing across her face. She turns on her heel and begins walking. 

Her voice is warm and confident as it reaches Byleth’s ears. “Well then, let’s get going. We have much to do today.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> So, about those lost items…  
Also, Sothis has to watch Byleth masturbate. Do you ever think about that?
> 
> This is actually my first time attempting to write fanfic, and even though I’m not quite happy with how it came out it was a good experience and I ultimately enjoyed writing it. I don’t know how much I’ll be writing from here out, but I appreciate any thoughts you have on this work. Hopefully I can improve and eventually do Edelgard justice; she deserves much more than a clumsy, one-off hand fetish fic. Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Stay horny. 
> 
> As a side note, maybe I went a little overboard with it, but I really enjoyed picking my brain for words to fit El’s motif. You don't realize how few terms relating to fire you know until you find yourself desperately in love with a girl who calls herself the “flame emperor”.


End file.
